The Trouble With Witches (Wicked Witches of the Midwest, #9)

by Amanda M. Lee

Our Great-Aunt Tillie told us that bobbing for apples was the germ equivalent of having unprotected sex with a ship full of sailors on shore leave.

Now isn’t that an image you don’t want to have in your head?

She enjoyed messing with my brain, but when things went bad – as they often did in the Winchester household – she was the first to jump to everyone’s defense.

You wouldn’t know something is good if you didn’t have something bad to compare it to. I don’t mind the bad memories. They remind me how far we’ve come.”

“No one needs your lip, smart mouth,” Aunt Tillie snapped, cuffing Thistle. “I have everything under control. Trust me.” And there they were, the most terrifying words in the English language being uttered by Aunt Tillie as if she didn’t have a care in the world. It was enough to strike fear in the hearts of all mortals. It was definitely going to be a long day.

“You have to be pretty to have a beauty mark,” Aunt Tillie said. “You look like an elephant’s hemorrhoid after it’s been inflamed for three days and someone decided to pop it like a zit.”

Where does the author come up with these descriptions? They are hilarious.

“I love how you guys fight constantly but back each other up when something bad happens,”

“You said arsonists are usually men,” I said. “Why is that?” “Because men like to burn things,” Thistle answered. “They’re all ‘fire good, tree ugly.’ Women are more ‘tree pretty, fire bad.’ It’s the age-old battle of the sexes.”

That’s one of the joys of being a kid. When you’re younger, the big things in life seem somehow easier because the adults want to absorb all of the pain for you.

His messy hair made him look handsome. I had a feeling I resembled something scraped off the bottom of your feet during a pedicure.